


I love it when you try to save me

by takarter



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drunk Alex Danvers, F/F, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Protective Astra, Roommates, oh my god they were roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-20 07:42:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17018559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takarter/pseuds/takarter
Summary: Alex stops smiling yet again, adapts an expression similar to one of a deer caught in headlights. Except that those usually don’t have their cheeks full of cereal, their hair isn’t adorably tousled and their brows knitted in slow and steady understanding. If it weren’t for any of that, Astra might have already been calculating how long it’d take her to move back to another planet.“I’m not gay.”





	I love it when you try to save me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Worffan101](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Worffan101/gifts).



> This is my first ever secret santa exchange, but I'm _so_ excited to finally post this. I had a lot of fun writing this, and I really hope you like it! @Worffan101  
> Enjoy :)

Their respective shifts end at different times, and for once Astra does not mind. 

On evenings like these, she usually doesn’t. Astra is all about leaving work together, is all about never heading straight home. She enjoys getting food with Alex after a stressful day, likes falling asleep on the couch even though they both _always_ promise to make it to their own beds instead. 

On Fridays, however, Astra does not mind abandoning their routine. No matter what bar they all go to, their evenings and the with it coming torture is incredibly predictable, always. Astra knows she will arrive only once some of their friends are already present, and she knows Alex will stroll in a little later even. Looking effortlessly cool in her leather jacket, her hair disheveled only until she runs her hand through it, using the momentum of the movement to wave at all of them. At Astra herself in particular, as soon as their eyes meet across the room. That they’ve last seen each other merely an hour before never matters - Alex will greet her with an overly excited grin, one that easily disrupts her usually indifferent demeanor. And sometimes, on days that are especially dear to Astra, Alex will even hug her. Briefly, but still long enough for unwanted feelings to flare up. Definitely long enough for Kara and Lucy to share conspicuous smirks behind their backs. They’re too obvious not to be noticed by Astra, but she truly doubts that Alex does too.

For Astra, all of this is evidently torturous enough already, all of those small gestures that are somehow impossibly unnerving. Gentle smiles and the subtle touch of oftentimes trembling hands under the table of their booth, all throughout the evening, and all coming together in a grand finale of frustration once it is over and Alex curls up against her side in the back of the taxi. And no matter the initial intention, the outcome is Astra wanting Alex more than she had ever before. The outcome is pure need, only to be replaced by doubt and eventually defeat. 

So Astra does not mind that their shifts end at different times. Because on evening like this, Alex’s transportation of choice is a motorcycle; and the only alternative to already terrifying events would be sitting on the back of it, holding onto Alex. Said situation being the only thing to ever unnerve her more than the general torment that is being around Alex Danvers in the first place. She can deal with _more-than-friendly_ touches and a drunk Alex at the alien bar. She can deal with movie nights and meeting in the kitchen during sleepless ones, both frequent occurrences ever since they live together.

Astra’s not sure if it’s due to her superhuman sense, or if it’s merely the result of an unrequited crush, but either way she can feel Alex’s skin burning under her fingertips when holding onto her on that deathtrap - and it’s the only thing that she absolutely cannot deal with. 

She flies to the bar instead, and expectedly finds that mentally preparing herself for Alex - even at about 200 feet up in the air - is not nearly enough. Never will be. And yet she fears that it might be her only chance of getting through the evening somehow. 

What she doesn’t expect to find, however, is Alex sitting at the bar already, for once earlier than her - and that therefore all means of preparation are immediately deemed nonsensical and useless. Astra gets thrown out of her routine with a smile so gentle and genuinely happy - even though Alex is sitting at the counter with _company_ \- that the mere act of walking towards their usual booth provides major problems all of a sudden, seems almost impossible. 

Astra doesn’t know who the woman is, jumps to the only logical conclusion; Alex is just getting drinks. And for a moment Astra thinks that perhaps she really is doing nothing but that, but her friends meet her with soft smiles and pity in their eyes, and only then does Astra look back to the bar again. She takes her seat with an audible sigh, doesn’t repeat a gaze into that general direction for quite a while. 

“I’m sure she’ll be back soon,” Lucy tries, unknowingly confirming the secret that is no longer one, and simultaneously suggesting that there is, indeed, something to worry about. Astra has never spoken those words out loud, but somehow her friends had managed to listen with open ears anyways. She looks uncomfortable in the crowded bar, _feels_ uncomfortable without Alex by her side, but the smile she sends back is both thankful and reassuring. 

Somewhat dismissive, as well. “Alexandra may return from speaking to her new companion whenever she seems fit.”

“She was ready to come back over here as soon as she saw you walk through that door,” Winn’s effort is admirable and his words nearing helpful, but then he follows them up with something that - based on Lucy’s exaggerated eyeroll - sparks an idea that most likely isn’t even close to smart. Or appropriate. “Perhaps you should go save her.” 

Astra considers it, she does, thinks of the silence she’s been keeping and deems any action to not be her place either. “I’m certain Alexandra does not need any saving. I wouldn’t wish to interrupt.” 

Winn nods courtly, but Lucy, Lena and Kara seem conflicted. All three of them aren’t quite ready to let it go just yet, want to object in favor of whatever they imagine might come out of this. That _thing_ they’ve been talking about for ages. _If you’d just say something. She likes you._ Astra looks back to Alex and the blonde in the tight dress, watches the latter animatedly talk to the former, and finally shakes her head. So not her place. 

Astra likes the alien bar. So much so, that one might call it her second home. Those are her people, in a place that is ridden of any preconceptions and discrimination. It’s a place that is theirs, and it’s one that is comfortable. Only today does it seem too full, the usually quiet chatter in the background now a loud, buzzing source of frustration and annoyance, a deadening ring in her sensitive ears. It’s laughter and flirting, it’s Lucy’s voice and Lena’s laugh that is no longer being held back, it’s trying her best not to eavesdrop on a maddeningly gorgeous doctor and her new friend. Asta likes the dim light that vaguely illuminates the place, just enough to make the whole room appear warm and cozy; and she especially likes the way Alex looks bathed in it, all soft and tender, sharp edges suddenly contrastingly rounded. 

In this new context, however, the lighting feels both too dull and too reflective of the inner workings of her mind. Gloomy and discouraged is what she feels, despite the fact that she can feel Alex’s eyes on her every now and then, and even now. It’s silly and it’s undesired, jealousy something she has no reason to feel and yet can’t shake off. Like the pitiful smiles it lingers even as the night grows older, and as a constant reminder that her friends’ playful teasing and encouragement is nothing to be taken seriously, it grows with her. 

“That’s the third.” 

Astra is too caught up in her own head to catch who spoke the words, but either way her head snaps up as though she senses that the statement is regarding Alex. That somehow they’re meant for her, no matter who they’d been directed at. 

“The third what, if I may ask?” Astra asks, confusion clear both in her voice and on her face, eyebrows furrowed and gaze focused. She follows Lucy’s line of sight with her own eyes, and immediately a frown takes over any and all confusion there had been before. “Is it Alexandra’s third drink?”

It’s a stupid question for several reasons, one being painfully obvious. At this time of the night, Alex has inevitably had more than that. On most nights, she has more than that. 

Lucy laughs and Kara hits her, holding back her strength only because her pout seems to be more powerful anyways. Kara protects the people she loves, and Astra doesn’t need long to figure out who needs protection now. For some reason it’s herself, and simultaneously to it being a realization of sorts, it’s also the answer to a question that shouldn’t have been asked in the first place. It is her that needs protection, and it is not Alex’s first drink. It hadn’t been about drinks. It had been about blonde curls, and a short pixie cut after that. 

“It’s the third woman to hit on Alex tonight.” _Oh._

“Of course.” Astra nods and the looks being exchanged across the table are all terribly similar - mostly confused, and some more worried than others. 

“Of course?” Lena asks, and Astra doesn’t quite understand what exactly she is questioning until Winn takes it upon himself to turn that question into a statement. “You like her.” 

Astra does. Astra likes Alex. Winn has said it first, and Astra isn’t sure she wants to be the one to say it second. 

“She looks happy, which means that my feelings are not of importance-” 

“She’s drunk off her ass, Astra.” Of course it’s Lucy’s inclination to be rude, but Astra has to agree that the tone of her voice is somewhat impactful. Lucy’s intensity is one of the many things that the alien likes about her, and she smiles in response even though worry is in the forefront of her mind. “And she keeps looking over here.”

Again Astra nods, but the answer that was about to follow gets rudely interrupted by another comment of Lucy’s, one that is this time driven home with raised eyebrows and a pointed glare. She’s smirking, too, and Astra almost regrets her decision to stay sober this evening. Almost. Her first priority, still, is to get Alex home safely. No matter the circumstances, no matter her own conflicting feelings. 

“At you, you stupid alien. She keeps looking over here in hopes that you might look back.” Lucy groans and Astra tilts her head much in a manner that Kara might - if she wasn’t busy agreeing with the former and holding Lena’s hand as though it is the most important thing to date - before she attempts another time to deflect those words. To no avail, Lucy admandant as always. “Pixie cut’s got nothing on you.” 

The sentiment is much appreciated and received with a deep blush, but Astra doesn’t believe it until she looks for herself, finds a pair of brown eyes and a dopey grin. Her own lips curl up into one much similar, and the muttered _‘sickeningly sweet’_ from either Lucy or Winn flies right over her head. Nothing will ever beat sober Alex, but still there are definitive perks to an intoxicated one. Walls turn into open arms and superficial confidence becomes red cheeks and downcast eyes. The hesitant brushing of Alex’s fingers against her own grows more sure with each glass, and silence makes room for terms of endearment. More than once Alex has called her _pretty_ after a few too many drinks, and Astra can’t quite remember when both hand holding and cheek kissing had started to become a regular occurance. 

Despite it all Astra doesn’t condone addiction, and yet her determined steps and fast approach might stem from either the need to protect or the longing for meaningless affection. In seconds she’s in front of Alex, and it takes even less for a warm hand to find her own. The doctor grasps onto it as Astra gently pulls her away and out into the brisk night air. The effect of the sudden breeze is not all that sobering, but it causes Alex to shiver notably, leather jacket too thin to shield her from the cold, despite how hot it is to Astra in any other circumstance. Astra pulls her closer in return, shakes her head in disbelief when she notes that a usually cold demeanor has been replaced with warm arms that wrap themselves around her neck. 

“Where are we going?” Alex whispers, chapped lips moving against the nape of Astra’s neck. The latter can’t feel the cold, but goosebumps erupt on her skin nonetheless. 

“I’m taking you home.” The few smokers around them don’t perk their heads up at the word, but Astra still feels the rush of it whenever she says is out loud, despite the amount of time they’ve been able to call each other roommates. Astra tries to take no offense that the people around them are too busy exhaling smoke and talking drunk nonsense, pulls Alex closer instead and revels in the knowledge that she and Alex share something as substantial.

The beating of Alex’s heart echoes in Astra’s whole being, fast at first, growing more rapid until she wraps her arms around Alex’s shaking body. It’s perfectly steady after that, and Astra identifies it as a calm slit to her neck. It’s what’s going to kill her one day, she knows, a soft thump the only thing to ever render her indestructible body feeble and weak. It’s ironically poetic and beautiful, and yet Astra envies Alex’s ignorant bliss in moments like this, completely unaware of there being any conflict at all. 

“You’re warm,” Alex mumbles, and with a smile Astra notes that this is all there is to the other woman in this moment. It’s that simple, and it should be. Except it isn’t. Just seconds later Astra has to refrain the doctor from pulling back, the mumbled _‘gonna get my motorcycle’_ another source of both worry and amusement. 

“You’re in no condition to drive, Alexandra.” 

Alex looks up at her, adorably confused and just as incapable of leaving the warmth of Astra’s arms as she is of driving. “Alex,” she corrects, her breath a concoction of beer and scotch that is just barely drowned by a scent so incomparably Alex that Astra reluctantly pulls back, just the tiniest few inches. 

Cursing her supersenses under her breath, Astra continues to drive herself further into oblivion, with words that should be restricted to the one of them who has clear inebriation as an excuse. “But I like the way your nose scrunches up whenever I refer to you as anything but that.” 

Alex giggles, a sound meant only for nights like these. A sound that is also slight puffs of warm air against Astra’s cold skin, a contrast so similar to their comfortable embrace under a dark night sky and surrounded by drunken idiots. 

“See, just like that,” Astra grins as their eyes meet another time, the nose scrunch prominent and even cuter than usual. Perhaps she’s her own kind of drunk, with Alex this close, and perhaps even a year of both living and working together has done nothing to drive up her tolerance. This might as well be her first drink, and with every touch she feels dizzier. 

“Are you drunk?” As if able to read her mind Alex asks the question, but Astra’s answer is both a lie and a reassurance. She shakes her head as though it should be obvious, watches as Alex nods in contrast, halts her movement for a few seconds in an attempt to think and then looks up to her again. “Am _I_ drunk?” 

“Terribly,” Astra chuckles, gets the sense that it might be a relief to Alex. The latter sighs and shifts impossibly closer, holds onto her harder, relishes the realization of what a perfect excuse a few too many glasses of scotch really is. Her soft words are slurred and almost inaudible, but Astra picks up on them nonetheless. Alex wants to be taken home, and Astra is happy to comply. 

“I should probably keep my mouth shut then.” Alex hums, but soon either forgets in a drunken blur or abandons the idea further with every second that they stand this close, don’t even think of moving just yet. It’s merely a few beats later that she adds, “you smell nice”.

//

The sight the kitchen provides is familiar, though their roles are reversed. It’s usually the alien that longs for unhealthy ice cream even at this time, and it’s usually the human, the responsible doctor out of two, that stumbles into the kitchen for nothing but a glass of water, and gets trapped in a mission to prevent an inevitable inhalation of food. But now it’s Alex who asks for ice cream, lips adorned with a pout Astra had previously only ever seen on Kara - and it’s her who has to decline. 

The compromise is cereal, and Astra watches in amusement as her friend munches away happily. She finds this whole ordeal to be similar to any other late night meeting in their kitchen, sleep mussed and barely awake, grinning at each other in the moonlight. Only that usually neither of them is drunk. Mostly, at least - Alex sure has her moments, especially after evenings like these. None of this is new, but some things are unexpected still. Sometimes Alex calls her beautiful, gets rid of a few too many clothes and bribes her with kisses to the cheek. 

But never, _never_ , before did she look at her like that. All wide eyed and affectionate, a hint of surprise suggesting that perhaps something is, indeed, different that night. That perhaps Astra isn’t the only one getting drunk on something other than alcohol. She notes that everything about Alex is warm and gentle, harsh characteristics now smoothed out completely, forming another version of her entirely. It’s the same Alex that can’t stop yawning during movie night, the same Alex that keeps shifting closer on the couch until their thighs touch. It’s the same Alex that grabs her hand under the table of their booth at the bar, and it’s an Alex that Astra likes decidedly too much. 

Astra swallows, pushes the thoughts away in favor of this night ending well. Whatever that might mean, in the midst of racing hearts and soft smiles being exchanged across the kitchen table. She gets up, leans against the kitchen counter instead. 

“Are you okay, Alexandra?” she asks, laughs softly when Alex nods vehemently. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Alex questions through a mouth full of cereal, her following grin both gross and endearing. “I’m here with you. And I have cereal.” 

If it was only that easy. Astra sighs another time and then shrugs. She wants nothing more than to get out of her uncomfortable pants and into a significantly more cozy bed, but she doesn’t trust Alex not to grab some ice cream the second she’s gone, and so she doesn’t even get up to get changed. “I’m just surprised you’re alone here, that’s all.” 

Alex’s grin turns into a confused frown, and foolishly Astra feels guilty. She wants to say something else, anything to make it better, but the former is faster even in her drunken haste. “ _You’re_ here, I’m not alone.” 

Astra wants to blame the alcohol in Alex’s system, for both the confusion and the torture, but the knowledge that a sober Alex is just as oblivious causes her to sigh another time. A glass of water is what she deems an alright distraction a second later, grabbing it from the shelf and fiddling with it more than using it for its actual purpose. “I just assumed one of the girls you’ve befriended tonight might have wanted to accompany you here.” 

“Are you sure you’re not drunk?” Alex asks, and there’s that grin again, but this time Astra’s too nervous to properly enjoy it, can’t even begin to mirror it like she usually would have. Still she considers the question rather adorable, shakes her head. 

“I’m not,” Astra reassures the doctor with a hum, but even then she keeps fiddling with the glass in her hands, until Alex’s eyes fall on it and she comes to an immediate halt. “They were… nice.” 

The sound that escapes Alex’s lips is close to a groan, and Astra internally curses herself for feeling like this now, in the possibly worst moment there is for something as insignificant as jealousy. They’re here, they’re alone. Alex is smiling at her like she hung the moon and yet Astra won’t shut up. “They were propositioning you.” 

Alex stops smiling yet again, adapts an expression similar to one of a deer caught in headlights. Except that those usually don’t have their cheeks full of cereal, their hair isn’t adorably tousled and their brows knitted in slow and steady understanding. If it weren’t for any of that, Astra might have already been calculating how long it’d take her to move back to another planet. 

“I’m not gay.” 

It’s entirely unconvincing and yet Astra still considers leaving the country. The whole situation is highly uncomfortable, is one she had been purposefully avoiding for about a year. And now that it’s finally here Alex is drunk, and she herself might as well be. Alex abandons her bowl of cereal and gets up, stumbles, trips, grins sheepishly at Astra once she’s safely in her arms, caught in just the last moment. Astra is thoroughly fucked, and just after a beat she lets her go again. “Sure.” 

“I’m really not,” Alex hums as she slowly, very slowly, makes her way towards her bedroom. Astra notes that she’s still smiling to herself, follows her not only because she’s still concerned. As if sensing that the other woman might not want her to disappear into her room just yet she stays close, despite feeling uneasy still. “Will you sleep with me?” 

It’s Astra who almost trips as soon as the question hits her for what it is, and after she’s analyzed any possible meaning of those few, tormenting words strung together. By the time she’s properly figured them out, Alex is lying on the bed. “Planotically, I mean. Just, next to me. Will you sleep next to me?”

Astra really prides herself on being smart, smarter than the average human at least, and perhaps even smarter than bright ones like Alex. Any given situation is something she thoroughly calculates and analyzes, any problem immediately logical and obvious to her, already solved before she can properly think about it. Astra is intelligent, and still she does nothing but nod before joining Alex in bed. She doesn’t even take her pants off, and once she thinks of doing so her eyelids feel heavy and her smile dopey. The soft exhales of breath next to her are steady, slowly lulling her into a deep sleep she hadn’t realized she’d been longing for. 

Though it’s before she’s completely lost herself, that she can feel Alex softly tug on her shirt, followed by a quiet whisper. 

“Closer?” 

// 

For the first time in quite a while Astra wakes up after the sun has risen already. Together with the surrealism of the predicament she’s currently in the sun has sneaked up on her, on them. Filtering through the window in soft rays it spends warmth, causes Alex’s skin to look more flawless than that of any Kryptonian even. There should be panic sneaking up on Astra, too, but as opposed to the previous night she feels not only drunk, but sleepy as well, and so she simply revels in entangled limbs and a warmth that no one else could ever replicate. 

Alex’s hair is dishevelled, her breathing uneven, her freckles in the morning light the first thing Astra notes once she properly opens her eyes. Waking up like this is nothing new, mornings like these familiar and quiet, never forgotten but never talked about. Still Astra is not nearly foolish enough to deem any of it predictable, from the way soft fingertips are drawing patterns on her skin to the tenderness of Alex’s gaze as their eyes meet. Astra’s breath catches in her throat as she notes that the other woman is awake, that her movements are not at all accidental but rather deliberate, that the soft upturn of delicate lips is not intentional but almost so. 

Astra knows how hard those are to fight, the smiles that never cease to erupt whenever they’re this close. And close they are, noses brushing as Alex moves to lie on her back instead, closing her eyes again and yet not allowing her fingers to rest as well. They keep drawing before they find Astra’s under the covers, hold onto her all at once. 

“Good morning.” It’s Astra who breaks the silence with a chuckle, feels oddly at peace now that Alex is deliberately not freaking out. In the back of her mind she notes that getting up to prepare coffee would be a good idea, that perhaps she should start with breakfast and make this yet another one of those mornings they both revel in, the ones they want to keep to themselves, the ones they want to keep safe at all costs. It’s the logical part of Astra’s mind, the other convinced that Alex’s warmth is all she needs to survive. 

“Morning,” Alex hums in reply, voice hoarse and laced with sleep, eyes still closed. It paints a beautiful picture, seeing her this carefree and yet conflicted, caught up in something that might withdraw as soon as they make it real with a motion as simple as opening their eyes. There’s the biting of lips and a few deep breaths, before Alex smiles self deprecatingly. “How bad was I last night?” 

“How bad?” Astra tilts her head although she’s fully aware that Alex won’t be able to see the gesture. She hopes the confusion resonates in her voice, and hopes the following smugness will continue to do so. “Are you speaking of all of the women you have rejected so cold heartedly?” 

To Astra’s utter delight, Alex snorts. In the way Kara likes to teasingly call ugly, and in the way that causes the need to pull her closer grow stronger and stronger. And so Astra does, instinctively wraps an arm around the other woman and easily pulls her closer.

“You’re exaggerating.” 

It’s undoubtedly a lie, but Astra couldn’t care less about the truth when Alex curls up against her and buries her head in the crook of her neck. “I am not, Alexandra. There were _at least_ three.” The words sound exceptionally playful. 

The few beats of silence that follow feel longer than that, but it’s all worth it once Alex speaks again. “Four, actually,” she hums, peaks through one eye and grins when she spots the confusion painted onto all of Astra’s features. Even her hands seem to be worried on their own accord, playing with Alex’s fingers still. “There was this other woman. Doctor, actually. She was pretty hot, and pretty sure in her mission to get me out of there.” 

“Did she succeed?” Astra asks, although the answer is obvious and definitely not required. Not something she waits for, anyways, because they’re here. With a certain sense of embarrassment she realizes that just a year ago the implications of Alex’s words would’ve flown right over her head. But now they’re clear as day, and she can’t wait to hear more. Even if they tinge her cheeks pink, something she knows to be possible only thanks to one certain doctor. 

“I’m in her bed now, so she must’ve done _something_ right,” Alex grins, peaks another time through hooded eyes and tries to somehow gauge Astra’s reaction. The latter is smiling like a fool, and unabashedly so. 

“You’re not gay,” Astra pokes, with an accompanied nudge of her shoulder against Alex’s. The words had hurt the night before, but now they’re a joke in the best way possible. In this moment they’re less true than they had ever been before, and it’s so obvious that even the accused can’t help but finally deny it. 

“Keep saying that and one of us might actually believe it.” With a smile Alex makes herself vulnerable, and Astra can’t help but admire the bravery. She’s putting herself out there, regardless of the situation they’re already in, and it lifts a weight off of Astra’s chest - if only for the certain relief it must bring to Alex herself, to finally say it out loud. 

For a while they just bask in a comfortable silence, fingers still laced and smiles still firmly set into place. It hits Astra again, then, the surrealism of this moment, and again she revels in it rather than missing the opportunity this provides. Their already established closeness a catalyst for everything that might follow. 

“So, this woman. This doctor, as you said,” Astra says after few more gentle looks have been exchanged. Her hand reaches out on its own accord, to play with Alex’s short hair, and even the way she shifts impossibly closer is almost accidental. Just like the smug smirk that finds its way onto her lips as soon as she forms the following words in her wandering mind. “If she asked you nicely, do you think you might consider accompanying her to dinner? On one of her very rare days off, perhaps?”

Astra expects to feel Alex tense in her arms, but instead the other woman shifts so they can properly look at each other. And she’s smiling, too, a simple movement more powerful than Earth’s yellow sun. Astra wants to bathe in it all day, can’t stop staring and almost misses its accompanying words. “On a day like this, you mean?” 

Astra nods, a little dumbfounded still. She copies Alex’s earlier antics, closes her eyes to both cope and experience. The sun feels even warmer on her skin like this, the rustling of sheets and Alex’s steady heartbeat all Astra can hear in this precious moment. “Tonight?”

“Tonight.”


End file.
